Arrogant Prick: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (7 page)

She grasps as I grab hold of her breasts and tug on her nipples, then pull back, aim my cock between her lips and push into her heated core.

My cock presses between her wet lips, and she gasps, bucking her ass back, sliding my cock in deeper between her wet walls. Her pussy feels like wet silk on my cock, gripping my shaft tightly. I stand up, grab her hips and pull back till just the tip of my cock is nestled between her folds. I smack her ass again, harder this time, leaving a reddened imprint of my hand on her pale skin.

“God, I love your fucking ass,” I growl. I squeeze and pull her tits as I thrust my cock deep into her pussy, till my hips press tightly against her ass. She groans out, and grinds her ass back against me and I begin fucking her in earnest, trying to hold back just long enough for her to cum first.

I watch as her ass bounces against my hips, her pink asshole glistening with her juices. Her hands are pressed against the glass, and her tits are swinging wildly as I fuck her relentlessly. It's got me close to cumming already, but I want her to cum again first. I pick up my tempo with the music as her groans turn to loud cries of pleasure.

“Fuck me, Gio. Make me cum in front of my whole club,” she moans.

Her words make me redouble my speed. Her breathing grows quicker, and more shallow. Her cries get louder, and I feel her pussy clench tightly around my cock as she cries out in pleasure. My balls tighten as I slam my prick deep into her tight pussy one last time, and I grind myself into her as I unleash jets of cum inside her. She braces herself against the glass and pushes her ass back against my hips, milking me for every ounce of cum I have to give.

Her cries lower into moans as she bounces against me one last time before she pulls herself off my cock and drops to her knees before me. She looks up at me with her big black eyes, her chest heaving, face flushed, hair plastered to her face with sweat and smiles.

“Was I good?” she asks as she gasps for breath.

I drop down next to her and pull her into my chest. My cock throbs against her back as I enjoy the final lingering sensations of my orgasm.

She leans her head back against me, and I kiss the nape of her neck, enjoying the feel of her pulse beneath my lips and the soft sounds of her breath.

“You’re amazing.” I stroke her arm and squeeze her tighter against me. “I’ve never tasted pussy as good as yours.”

“That was the most amazing sex I've ever had.” Her voice is soft, like a spring breeze. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

I laugh lightly, enjoying the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingertips. “No one ever looks up.”

She turns her head to the side so she can look me in the eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

I grin down at her. She looks much more sure of herself now that she's spooning naked against me. She’s not that nervous girl I met a few nights ago. “Do you really want to know? You might not like what you hear.”

She puts her arm over mine and reaches down to squeeze my hand. “Maybe not, but I’ve done things with you I’d never have done otherwise. So try me.”

“I’ve spent two years in Afghanistan killing terrorists, and another eight years at home killing domestic ones.” I watch her eyes gauging her reaction, but this doesn’t seem to faze her. “When I scout my targets, they always look around them for an ambush, but only the most paranoid ever think to look up.”

“Is that why you came to Hush the first time?” I can feel her heart speeding up. “Were you following a terrorist here?”

I kiss her on the neck. “No.”

“Will you tell me who you were looking for?” Her finger traces the tattooed thorns on the roses trailing down my arm, making my hair stand on their ends. I change the subject.

“Tell me who your keeper is.” I raise my hand from around her waist, my arm brushing against the tips of her breasts, and she gasps as I lightly wrap my fingers around her porcelain neck. “Who’s the man who’s got you collared?”

She looks down, biting her lip. “It’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is like.”

“It’s my father.” Her voice is low and she drops her eyes from mine, staring out the window. “He still only thinks of me as his little princess.”

That explains it. He must be one of Pavoni’s captains. I’ll find out who it is when my contact at the FBI comes through with their file on the Pavonis.

“Is he cruel to you?” I ask, and my voice comes out harder than I intended. She glances at me in surprise before replying.

“No.” Her voice is firm. “He’s a good man, and I know he wants the best for me. He just has an old country way of looking at things.”

I brush my hand through her thick hair. “My dad was like that, too.” I want to hold back, but I can’t. I’ve already told her what I do. That's something I’ve never told anyone. Not even my family knew. It feels good to talk to someone about this. “He always wanted me to follow in his footsteps.”

“What did he do?”

“He owned a store selling sporting equipment and uniforms down in Bushwick.” He didn’t truly own it though. He borrowed money from the Pavonis and they used him to launder their money, even after he paid the loan off. That’s how the mob works. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. Whether you're an associate, a made man, or just a guy with no credit, looking to provide a better life for his family.

“Do you still talk to him?” She really wants to know about me. The women I’ve had in my life have never bothered looking past my body, clothes, or money. Not that I ever gave anyone a chance, but still. She's so genuine, so real. I'm not used to that.

“He’s dead.” I spit out the words before I can stop myself. He’s dead. My family’s all dead, and I wasn’t here to protect them when they needed me.

She gasps, turns around in my arms and looks at me. I shouldn’t have told her the truth. I don’t want her to pity me.

“I’m so sorry.” She’s looking at me like I’m a wounded bird she found in the streets. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go through that.”

“You aren’t the one to blame.” But I know who is, and I’ll make him pay. It’s the only purpose I have left in my life. At least I used to think that, before I met her.

Feeling conflicted, I stand up and start putting my clothes back on. I can’t let her distract me from my mission.

“I have to go,” I say abruptly.

“Please don’t go yet.” She looks up at me. “I’m sorry for bringing up your father.”

I look away, afraid of what she might see in my face if I turn to her. She reminded me of my purpose. Nothing can stand in the way of that. Not even her.

She stands up and walks up behind me, and puts her hands around my shoulders. “Will you call me?”

I turn around and look her in the eyes. Maybe I don’t have to give her up, if I live through my mission. Maybe I can be happy with her. But I’ve always been a realist. The odds of surviving through this have never been good. I'm only one man, trying to take down an entire
familia
.

I pull my cellphone out of my pocket, press in my code and hand it to her. “Put in your name, so you’re not just a number in my texts.”

She takes the phone from me quickly and hands it back as soon as she’s done. “I want to see you again,” she says quietly.

I press my lips against hers, relishing the taste of her mouth one last time. Giving her up is far harder than I thought it’d be. I turn around before I give up on avenging my family. I couldn’t be there for them when they needed my help. I can't fail them again.

Even if I have to give up the only lover that’s ever meant anything to me.

* * *

T
he oiled leather
creaks as I slide into the driver’s seat of the 1969 Chevy Camaro. I close the door behind me with a loud thud and lean back against the headrest. I put one hand on the stick shift and the other on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

I worked on this car with my father. No matter how much we fought, we could always come back together, working silently on this car, and eventually we’d get along again. My mom loved to jokingly refer to her as our therapist.

I blink away the sting in my eyes, remembering when Elena asked me if I would chauffeur her to the junior prom in this car. I had told my CIA handler I would need to be back in New York on that day.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel, and the Camaro’s horn echoes off the concrete of the parking lot. I want to avenge her. I
need
to avenge her and my parents.

Then why am I wasting my time by fucking around with the daughter of one of the Pavonis? I take the cellphone out of my pocket, prepared to smash it, but I hesitate. This has gone past her just being a good fuck. It felt good to talk to her. I felt relieved to share my burden with her. Is it so wrong to hope that I can be happy after all this is over? Can’t I succeed in my mission, hoping I live through it to spend time with her?

I was too cold to her when I left. I need to tell her I’m not angry with her. I unlock the phone and open it to the contacts screen to send her a text, but my thumb pauses over the message button. I read it again and again. This is impossible. It can’t be right. But no matter how many times I read her name, it says the same thing:

Alessandra Pavoni

Everything makes sense now. The way she acts like no one’s ever said a cross word to her in her life. The wise guys watching over her. No captain’s daughter would be treated like this. I haven’t gotten the files on the Pavonis yet, but I know enough. There's no one else in the family with that name.

Alessandra is the daughter of Don Enzo Pavoni. The man who ordered the hit on my family.

“
E
verything’s gone to
hell since last night.” I’m on the phone with Sarah while I sit on the bench in my closet.

“Speak up,” she says. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said everything’s gone to hell.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I don’t want my mom to hear me in case she’s trying to snoop from outside my door. “My mom was raging the moment I got home.”

“But you went home right after the club closed, right?”

Sarah still doesn’t get how things work around here.

“Yeah, I came straight home.” Not that I wanted to. I wish I hadn’t asked Gio about his family. I can’t believe I messed that up.

“Do you think they found out what you did last night?”

I can feel the heat rising in my face the moment she mentions that. Just thinking about what I did last night makes me squirm in my seat. It’s like some surreal dream. I still can't believe I let him fuck me against my window like that. It feels like it happened to someone else.

“I don’t think so.” I hope I’m more convincing than I sound. If my dad found out about that, he’d never let me out of the house again.

A knock at the door distracts me from Sarah’s response. “I gotta go.” I hang up the burner and stuff it into the bottom of my purse.

“Come in.” The door opens as I speak, and my mom steps into my room.

She doesn’t look right. Her usually impeccable appearance is marred by her disheveled hair and lack of makeup. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying. I feel my stomach flip-flop. Something's wrong.

“What is it, Mom?” I walk out of the closet and sit atop the chest at the base of my bed. I pat the seat next to me. She smiles weakly and sits down.

“Your dad wanted me to ask you something.” Her voice cracks like she’s ready to cry. “Did you see Rizzo at Hush yesterday?”

I stifle my sigh of relief. I’m grateful she isn’t asking me about reports of a naked girl getting fucked in my office at the club last night.

“He was there when I got there, but he was gone after lunch.” I wrap my arm around her as she drops her head into her hands. “What’s going on, Mom? Did something happen to Rizzo?”

“It’s awful.” She sobs, her shoulders shaking under my arm. “I shouldn’t bother you with this, but I need to talk to someone, and your dad is so worked up that I can’t talk to him.”

“I’m here for you, Mom.” I rub her back, trying to comfort her. “I can take it. Just tell me what happened.”

“He’s dead.” She looks up at me, tears streaking down her face. “He was such a good boy. Always so polite, and now he’s dead.”

My heart clenches in my chest. Rizzo is dead? He was so young. Always offering to help around the club, even though he didn’t have to. I don't understand what happened.

My mom puts her head down on me and sobs into my shoulder as I gently stroke her hair.

“Tommy’s dead, too,” she cries. I didn't really know Tommy, but my poor mother is broken up about it. This is as bad as it can get. Both of them are dead? What the hell's going on?

I still remember the first time I went to a funeral. I was so excited to wear my little black hat with the pretty lace covering my face. My mom slapped me for the first and last time that day when I told her how excited I was to wear my costume. I’ve gone to funerals since then, but they’ve never been for someone I’ve really known.

The door swings open wider and my dad walks in. He looks as polished as always in a dark gray pinstripe suit and navy blue tie. I’ve always loved that white streak of hair across his temples. I remember him laughing when I told him he looked like the guy from the Sopranos. With a huge smile, he told me the guy from the Sopranos looked like him. My dad was around first, after all.

His expression is stoic, but his eyes are downcast, betraying his grief. He puts a hand on top of my head and another on the back of my mom’s. “It’ll be alright.”

With him standing over me, I believe it, too. I try not to lie to myself about what my family is. But I know despite what I read in the press, my father is a good man. And I know that this sort of thing happens from time to time. We might not be on the right side of the law, but being in the Mafia carries a higher than average risk of dying. Just like being in the military, or law enforcement.

“Thanks, Dad.” I look up at him and smile through my tears. “Are you doing okay?”

He smiles down on me with a proud look on his face. “It’s just like you to worry about me instead of yourself.” He rubs his hand in my hair just like he’s done ever since I was old enough to remember. “I’ll be alright, princess.” He looks to my mother and frowns slightly.

“Gina, you have to pull yourself together.” He moves his hand to her shoulder and gives her a firm squeeze. The big champagne diamond on his pinky ring catches the light. “We need to go deliver the news to their mothers, and I’m going to need you to pull yourself together and comfort them.”

She picks up her head from my shoulder, leaving a dark spot of tears and eyeliner on my t-shirt, blows her nose into a tissue and stands up. “Okay, Enzo. I’ll be alright.”

Dad takes her by the elbow and helps her up and they hug warmly. I feel a pang of regret as I think about Gio, and how sad it is that he'll never be able to watch his parents like this again. I'm lucky. I know that despite my father's rules and his attempts to run my life, he's never been anything but good to me.

He puts his arm around her shoulder and leads her to the door. He stops, turns around and looks back at me. “Marco should be here in a few minutes. If you need anything, he’ll get it for you.”

I wipe the tears from my own eyes and nod. I should have guessed this would happen. There’s no use fighting it. “Okay, Dad.”

“Try not to give him too much grief, okay? It’s for your own good.” He smiles, and heads out, his arm still around my mom’s shoulder.

* * *

I
try
to run downstairs to get the door before Marco, but he’s already there waiting for her. He opens the door and Sarah walks in, her heels clicking loudly on the marble floor.

“Hey, Marco.” She leans in and gives him European kisses on the cheeks. She puts a white box and her purse on the closest table and turns around with her arms wide open. I run into her arms and give her a big hug.

“It’s so nice to see you again!” Her words are muffled by my hair.

“I know.” I pull back and look into her face. It really is nice to see her again. I’ve practically been under house arrest for the past week, and I’ve been dying to talk to her in person.

I turn to Marco. “We'll be upstairs if you need me.” He nods.

Sarah picks up the large white box, removes the cord wrapped around it and puts its contents on display in front of Marco’s face. “Before you go, take a pastry.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He grins and takes a chocolate-covered puff pastry. He turns to me. “You should have her over more often,” he jokes.

I laugh as I start to walk upstairs. “Will do, Marco.”

He pops the entire pastry into his mouth, smiles with his mouth comically filled up, and lets his eyes linger on my legs before he heads into the living room.

I close the door to my bedroom after Sarah comes in, wait for her to put the box and her purse down on my table, and give Sarah another big hug.

“That guy’s always got his eyes on you.” Sarah laughs.

“I know, but he’s harmless. Too afraid of my dad.” I shrug. “I’m so happy you're here.”

“It’s been too long, girl.” She looks at me sadly. “Have you really been cooped up in this house for a week?”

“Yeah. They have me on house arrest.” I breathe out an exaggerated sigh. “My dad has Marco keeping an eye on the place whenever he’s out. I can’t even go to Hush. I have to do all my work from here.”

“That fucking sucks.” She plops down on my couch and kicks her heels off her feet.

“Tell me about it.” I sit down on the other end of the couch and put my feet up on her thighs.

She looks at my feet, curling her lips with a slight sneer of disdain.

“Are you judging my feet?” I laugh.

She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “You want to lie and tell me you’ve gotten your nails done this week?”

“I think you’re forgetting the part about how I’m under house arrest.” I pull my feet back from her lap and wrap my arms around my knees.

“This is one of those family things you can’t talk about, right?”

I put my chin on my knees and nod.

“You know my parents think I’m crazy staying friends with you, right?” She grabs the box of pastries, throws open the lid and passes it over to me.

“No kidding.” I take out a mini cannoli with chocolate chips. I eat the pastry slowly in a moment of awkward silence. That’s how conversations about my family always end, with awkward silences. I’m just glad Sarah decided to stay my friend after she found out who my family is.

“You know you’re the devil, Sarah?” I pick out another cannoli. “You know I can’t stop eating these.”

She grins and makes devil horns with her hands. There are two ways people tend to react when they find out who my dad is. They either stop talking to me, afraid I’ll have them killed over the smallest slight. Or, they pretend I’m their best friend, so they can tell everyone they know they're friends with the Pavonis. Sarah’s the only person I've ever met who just shrugged and kept acting like I was a normal person. I really lucked out getting her as a roommate when we were in college.

“Soooooooo…” I immediately know where she’s headed, and I don’t really want to talk about it. There are times when only having friends who are sycophants would have its advantages, and I suspect this is one of them. “Have you heard from Gio yet?”

There it is. The conversation I was dreading having. “No.”

“Have you texted him?”

“No.”

“So you’re just leaving it at that?” She puts the box aside and pulls herself up on the couch so she can properly stare me down.

“It’s his turn to text me back.” I cross my arms over my chest and look away from her.

“What the hell does that mean?” she asks with exasperation.

“It means I went out on a limb and texted him after we hooked up that first time.” My voice gets louder than I’d meant. I don’t want to yell at her, but he’s not here for me to yell at him. I take a deep breath to calm myself. “He has my number. He can call or text me back.”

“Look, girl.” Sarah leans in toward me and lowers her voice. “You’re the one who’s always complaining about how guys are too afraid of your family, so you can never get laid. Right?”

“No.” I’m pretty sure I’ve never said that. Not in those words, anyway. “I complained that no one ever asks me out, not that I don’t get laid.”

“Whatever!” She throws up her hands. “You go on a date to get laid. So you’re just arguing semantics.”

“Fine.” I turn back to her. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you had a sex god walk into your life. He gives literally zero fucks about who you are, or your family. He fucked you in a way that makes the guys I’ve hooked up with look like innocent virgins. And you aren’t willing to text him back because it’s his turn?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna know what I think?” she asks.

“Not really, but I know you’re going to tell me anyhow.”

“Damn straight, and that’s why you love me.” She grins. “I think you’re afraid of how he’s making you feel. I think you’re afraid that if you keep seeing him, you’ll eventually have to tell your parents. And you’d rather live the rest of your life in misery than tell them that you're no longer your dad’s little princess.”

I put my chin down and bury my face between my knees. I keep trying to deny it, but I know she’s right.

She scoots closer on the couch. “Take this from me. She puts her hand on top of my head and brushes her fingers through my hair. “I’ve dated a lot of men, and someone like Gio doesn’t come around that often.”

I lift up my head and look at her. She’s definitely right. If I let Gio go, it’ll be a decision I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I owe it to myself to at least try to make it work.

The moment of silence is broken by the faint sound of a phone vibrating from my closet. Our heads whip around in that direction and I have to race Sarah to get to the phone first. I grab the purse, turn my body to block her out and dig the phone out of the purse.

It’s Gio.

Sarah reaches for the phone in my moment of hesitation. “Answer it!”

I manage to keep the phone out of her hand and accept the call.

“I want to see you.” It’s definitely Gio.

“Well, hello to you, too,” I say sarcastically. I ignore Sarah demanding that I put the phone on speaker. “You don’t call me for a week, and then you just demand to see me?” As much as I want to talk to him, I can't help giving him a little shit over everything.

“Some things are better said in person.” His voice sounds tense.

“It’s going to be hard to get out of the house right now, Gio.” Sarah is shaking her head, disappointed in the direction this conversation is going.

“Then I’ll come to you.”

“I don’t think you understand.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I can’t have a guy over to my house. My dad will flip.” I’m actually worried he’d do much worse given what’s happened recently.